


Sea foam on chestnuts

by TotemundTabu



Series: Throbb Weeks [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Dom Robb Stark, Fluff, Grey!Rodrik Greyjoy, Homophobic Language, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:06:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12083574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: Theon is on holiday with his father and siblings and hates every second of it. In order to please their overbearing father or due to their own nature, his siblings behave like cavemen - a farce Theon is not good at playing. To add insult to injury, Theon is very bisexual and, when they arrive at the B&B of their choice, they discover one of the owner's son is ferociously cute and a bit too gay for Theon to resist.





	Sea foam on chestnuts

**13** **th** **of September – Day Three – Modern Universe – Sea foam on chestnuts**

 

* * *

 

 

The wind crashing against the rocks brought on the nervous, restless, brackish scent of the white foam. Theon had to admit the Orkney Islands were not so bad.

Of course, the seaweed-eating-sheep were a tiny bit creepy and god knows he understood half of what people were trying to communicate to him in that awful accent, but the sights were breath-taking.

Not that he had much time to enjoy them, though.

Because they were on a family vacation.

His father had pulled them by their necks through that agony of a summer break in Scotland and the company was what made sure that Theon hated every single second of their vacation. His mother, a wise woman, refused to come with them and instead used her brother's broken leg as an excuse to visit him – that leg had healed two years prior the event, but Theon's father's knowledge of medicine was low enough for him to be sure his brother-in-law was basically on a deathbed. So only Theon and his siblings had been trapped in the delightful experience of having Balon's seagull voice screaming in their ears day and night.

Rodrik had found a loyal companion to numb the pain at the bottom of a glass, but he had also found much fun in provoking pain in others – Theon was his favorite victim lately.

When Maron stopped his chronic lying, his spiteful hate for everything around him and bickering with Asha, he also found the time to hand Theon some homophobic waterfall of slurs, just to make sure he wasn’t missing the civilized world too much.

Asha was an asshole too, when father was around, so Theon couldn't count on the only human being able to hold a conversation above a caveman level.

Theon had found the most terrible times were the car drives, the long, exhausting times with two siblings squishing into him – Asha always got the front seat because she was daddy's girl much to Rodrik's dismay as he had waited all his childhood for mom-less trips in order to unlock the magical permission to sit in the front. Theon liked and hated Asha the most, because she was neither violent nor loving, unkind and kind altogether. She was the girl, but Theon was still less liked, because he was just, and was always going to be, the faggot kid.

Not that his father knew, but it didn't matter.

For how many girlfriends he had had or how many women, he was still too effeminate, too weak, too polished and put together. And, being bisexual, he was not very convincing as he yelled at his brothers that he was not “a queer”.

He sighed.

In his wildest wet dreams, a six foot tall policeman with red curls and a thirtysix inch waist policewoman would stop the car, explain to his father that the speed limit existed and then take Theon to prison for a threesome. Theon considered if he should have felt guilty about his stereotypical bisexual fantasizing over three-ways and then decided that if he had to spend days with Rodrik's armpit that close to his face he had every right to fantasize about anything he pleased to, politically awful or not.

“We're almost there.”, Balon croaked and Maron sprung up as if he had finally had an epiphany on the sense of showers.

“Does this mean _food_?”

Rodrik elbowed Maron, “Calm down. - then looked over at Theon – I wonder if this time there will be some left for us.”

Theon was not sure if Rodrik was trying to be friendly with him or positively threatening, but he decided to simply not reply and stare out the window.

His father had booked a small b&b on that island, so they would have had a return point and from there start to explore the other islands. A smart choice for once. But Theon disliked b&bs with all of his heart: he loved the anonymous privacy of big hotels, the surplus amount of plugs to load all of his technological baggage with and the overload of towels for him to wrap himself in- some good, old, lavender-scented, soft comfort after a whole day of being sardined by his brothers’ shoulders.

Maron and Rodrik started bantering soon after about Maron's eating habits – he was indeed a bit of a trashcan – and Asha just gave Theon a glance he was not able to fully decode.

Bored out of his mind, Theon put his chin on his hand, stared out stubbornly to the hills and sea, and prayed for them to arrive soon.

When Balon stopped the car, Theon sighed heavily.

The b&b was quite intimate, which translated to him probably having to share a room with Asha _again_ . It had two small, stout towers and a glass veranda greenhouse. Balon was unloading the luggage out of the car when a reincarnated lumberjack horror movie on legs and the most Irish-looking woman in the world arrived to greet them; they were Ned and Cat, apparently, the owners of the Winterfell b &b and his father started discussing with the man as soon as it was humanly possible. The woman just gave all of them a long look, she tried to seem nice, but Theon recognized in her eyes the sheer panic and vague disgust he had always felt looking at their family pictures.

“Ah. - she smiled – Robb and Jon will take your luggage.”

“I can manage on my own.”, Rodrik said, of course, to show off. Theon groaned, rolling his eyes.

A tall, dark boy came, he looked as if he had been cradled out of a nirvana concert, and took Maron's luggage. He was younger than him too, but he didn't seem to notice the ridiculous scenario.

Theon picked his luggage up, until he felt an unfamiliar, freckled hand on it.

“Leave it to me.”, a cheerful, firm voice said.

Theon turned to find himself a few centimetres from the most positively radiant boy he had ever seen. Big wide smile, huge blue eyes, adorable auburn curls – shoulders, chin and chest that had crawled out of his deepest fantasies. The boy was wearing a red and azure lumberjack shirt and Theon was sure the boy's wood would have been very welcome inside him any time he wanted.

Theon stuttered something, before gulping and trying to find some of his charm again.

The boy had freckles covering his face and hands, some even popping out from behind the shirt, together with flushes of fiery hair.

The boy must have read his mind because he stared at Theon's muttering lips, sucked his own slowly, and moved away, still glancing back at him warmly.

Asha grinned.

“Is he your type?”, she whispered, making sure nobody else heard.

Theon turned, fuming, “Would it be too much to ask you to stop mocking me, dog-face?”

“Touchy. - she snorted – So he is.”

Rodrik returned to grab more luggage, “Who is what?”.

Asha saw the pure panic splattered across Theon's face and, with a smirk, decided to show him some mercy.

“The red-headed girl. - she said, moving her head towards the younger sister of the Young Irish Stable boy Fantasy – She's real cute.”

Theon was about to say that even Rodrik could distinguish a 'he' from a 'she', but Rodrik didn't point out anything and Theon wondered if he had got it wrong.

“Too young for me. - he mumbled, staring – But you should try, Asha, she's staring at you.”

“You think so? - she chuckled – Sorry, Theon!”

Theon just ignored her and walked beyond a frowning Rodrik to enter the b&b in search of his room. To his surprise and mid-horror, he did have to share his room but not with Asha – instead, Maron called dibs on being with her, of course to make sure to have their middle sibling horrible talks, and Theon found himself stuck with Rodrik. Woohoo.

At least he would have avoided the gay jokes.

He opted for a long shower and a nap, intentioned to exploit every minute from their unpacking to dinner time. When he woke up, though, he found himself alone in the room.

His hair was still heavy with droplets, his skin goose-fleshed and shivering.

Scotland's air was cold, but scented, it had that whole smell of the sea that his industrial town in the middle of factory world would have never possessed. Pyke was bleak and plain, a place of miners and grey skies, they called it “the iron islands” because of the towering factories all over.

Theon used to pretend the floor was dark, thick seawater instead of lava, that could whirlpool him away from his family and all the shame and the sensation of being torn with every step by his father's scolding.

He liked the sea.

He heard a knocking on the door and he mumbled an emotionless “come in” without much thought. He mentally cursed Rodrik before realizing Rodrik had never knocked once in his lifetime.

As he realized it and closed the bathrobe around himself, he had already heard the door slam closed and a panicked “I'm sorry” coming out from the other side.

Theon just prayed he hadn’t traumatized the boy too much.

“I’m sorry too. - he quickly said, opening the door, while keeping the robe firmly closed – I, hm, just woke up, I'm still frazzled and my mind just fucked up, I thought it was my brother.”

Theon opened the door completely and saw the handsome boy of before sharing a small smile. His hair was as red and as raw as chestnut honey. He wondered if Scottish chestnuts were as bright as the ones his mother used to bring them from the countryside or whether they were duller, browner, like wet earth pregnant with rain, and if he would have loved them all the same. 

A tilted, shy smile, “Which one?”

“The tallest. - a smirk – Not the one who keeps blabbering.”

The boy laughed and then placed some tea bags and a boiler on the little table in the room. His fingers lingered on the soft, dark wood, as if he were trying to collect the courage to speak up.

Theon noticed that the sudden shyness was most definitely due to his indecent outfit, since the boy's glance kept falling to his crotch and in between his legs.

“I showered. - Theon explained, in the most idiotic fashion, as if his wet hair could mean anything else – Ah, hm, Theon.”

“I'm Robb.”, he dared then, with a renewed smile that made Theon's chest warm and uncomfortably fuzzy.

Robb's smile widened, “It's a pretty name.”, he said and then seemed insecure for a moment, he scratched behind his nape.

Maybe he was waiting for Theon to confirm something, but Theon was not sure if he even wanted to do it; he was on a vacation with his family. He was not alone, not even in his room.

And the guy was damn cute but it meant trouble.

Robb. Theon thought it sounded like when summer melts into autumn and the heat becomes just sweet warmth and the soft earth welcomes red leaves and tender rain.

“So, hm, you give a hand around here?”

Robb let out a low chuckle, “Not much of a choice, to be fair. It was either this or an exciting internship at the lobster pot.”

“Wow. - Theon said in thick, fakely impressed sarcasm – Living la vida loca.”

“Boiling seafood alive. - Robb nodded, profoundly – That's how we decide who will inherit the tribe.”

Theon snorted, “It's not so bad here.”

“It's not. - Robb admitted, in a smile – But I wanted to see you laugh.”

“Self-deprecation is your flirting technique? - Theon bit his lips, chuckling – I may enjoy that.”

Robb tilted his head, his lips widening, “I bet on the winning horse then.”

Theon let out a laugh, “Are you also a gambling addict? Because you had me at the lobster torture, and there is a limit to what a fairy can endure with his boxers still on.”

Robb bit his lips. “You're awful funny.”

Theon looked at him, eyes half-lidded, “Like a lot of fun or like no fun at all?”

“Like both awful and funny.”

Theon glanced at the door.

“Do you know when they left and to how far away…?”

Robb frowned, as if he didn't understand. Theon decided to give him a hint: he moved his legs slightly more apart and started playing with the belt of his bath robe, his fingers riding the knot and loosening it slowly. His eyes were nailed on Robb's face, his lips dropping wet, his jaw hard, clenching as he swallowed, his expression half-dazed, half-ecstatic. Then, panic.

“I... I mean, I don't know if it's a-”

Theon raised an eyebrow and moved closer, deciding to take the matter in his hands. Literally.

He stood in front of the boy and let his hands run over the color-blind crime that was his red and green lumberjack shirt that he hoped to throw on the floor quite soon. His lips brushed Robb's ear, now the color of his hair.

“Are you that loud?”

Robb almost swallowed his whole throat in embarrassment.

“I just... we should close the door with a key and you're a client.”

“Neither of these seem to me... - Theon's fingers lingered on Robb's neck and then his shoulders – Insurmountable.”

Robb was sure his blood was boiling by then, as Theon's words got scorching like boiling oil.

“...you sure don’t waste any time.”

“I'm here for some days, hot stuff. - Theon smirked – I wouldn't have the time for romance even if I were the type, and I'm not.”

Robb's smile tilted, cracked, as he backed away slightly.

He gulped, “Your family may be back soon.”, he lied, and went out of the room.

Theon stared at him, blinked outraged, offended beyond measure, with a dry sensation in his throat and a frustrated warmth in his crotch. 

The first following day was just as bad as Theon had nightmares about: sheep everywhere, his father ranting about alternative historical facts that needed just a certificate of primary education to be busted, his siblings sucking up to him and the weather- thick foamy rain that ruined the panorama.

The second day he crossed paths with Robb in the garden, boy half naked, moving lumber around – Theon felt the need to spray them with a hosepipe as they kiss under the silly fake rain. Robb looked at him, blushed, and lowered his stupidly sexy freckled face. Rodrik joked saying he looked scrawny. Scrawny my arse, Theon thought, imagining how heavy that boy would have felt, pinning him down on a bed, pounding into him.

The third day he considered slamming him on the grass and filling his mouth with his tongue, taking over him and riding him despite how much he hated leading and just feel him inside, under, didn't matter. When Robb brought jam and bread on the table for breakfast, his lips were still stained red by fresh fruit and Theon wanted to suck them purple, to run his hands on his chest, pinch his nipples, hear him scream and melt. And when night arrived, Theon cursed every god he knew because he was as hard as a rock and had to extinguish his erection in the shower, under freezing water, muffling his moans for Rodrik not to hear him – when he could have had Robb's cock inside him. Damn that boy’s stubbornness and damn his honesty.

After the shower, he went out to the garden.

The chilly air and the briskly wind brought salt to his lungs and the balsamic sensation of melting away. The waves crashed against the high rocks, the rare trees on the islands were strong, growing in a land of wind that was as ferocious as thunder, and their leaves stained by soft rain that smelled like another era came to life from the wet earth.

Theon heard some footsteps behind him.

“A penny for your thoughts?”, the voice said after an interval.

Theon startled and looked back. “Eh?”

As he saw Robb, a smile came to his lips, uninvited and welcome at the same time.

“I was wondering if these islands were born forestless or if they became so. The weather looks too wild for a lumberjack business. - then he turned to Robb and smirked – Except fashion-wise, of course.”

Robb smiled and sat on the soft ground, close to Theon's ankles. Theon considered if he loved more his trousers or the idea of fucking that boy and, for the first time in forever, the latter won; so he sat too.

“Once there were trees. - Robb explained – Hazel, willow, birch, all through the Mesolithic and early Neolithic. Then from 3rd millennium BC they started disappearing. We used a lot of stone in construction since... and then from the Bronze Age, the climate deteriorated: it was colder, wetter, not the ideal to live in. - he smiled wide – Not a taste for everyone, but I quite like my challenges.”

“Your winds are something else... - Theon observed – They shake the whole sea. I’ve never seen anything like this and it's summer.”

“I like haar the most. - Robb admitted, his eyes shining, staring at the sea – A damp, thick marine fog. A veil of stinging spray, as if the sea were smoking in the cold... the boundaries between water and air all mixed up, like someone had deleted the drawn lines between them.”

Theon rolled his eyes and then moved closer, his nose close to his neck, the lips about to touch the earlobes. “I know boundaries that would be funnier to eliminate.”

Robb turned and raised an eyebrow between amused and tempted.

“You're not a good listener, are you?”

“I'm a horrible listener.”, Theon said, moving his lips slowly, a bit too slowly, enjoying, sated and aroused, how Robb stared at his mouth, the wet lips, the pink shade, the need to capture and suck blowing his pupils wide and dark with desire.

Robb swallowed, hard.

Theon lowered his eyelids halfway, then moved his hand to Robb's jawline.

“What is it? Am I not your type?”, he asked, perfectly knowing he was.

Robb looked down, frowned, “What's the sense of doing something that won't last?”

Theon laughed, “To do it at all?”, he asked, amused.

Robb seemed to think about it, he squinted his eyes. For a moment, Theon thought he had overdone or had been too blunt.

Then he felt his hair in the soft earth – and it didn't matter, and it didn't matter – and the weight of Robb atop of him, pressing him down. He smelled like rain.

Theon's mouth agape quivered and then tilted, as he smirked.

Robb bit his lips and panted.

“What if then I don't want to let go?”

Theon smirked, “Puerile and stubborn.”

Robb cocked a brow, then with one of his hands lifted Theon's face. “You seem to like it” And he sank into him in a deep kiss, tongues filling mouths and losing air.

Theon curled his fingers and ran them through Robb's hair, and pulled him closer. He deepened the kiss, lacing and entwining with Robb's warmth, living off of it, like serpents with the sun.

They made out there, in the thick, slick darkness of the foggy night and under jet black velvet holed by weak stars. They made out between the wetness of time and the slowness of delighted pants.

Like darkness couldn't tear them apart, for heat doesn't need light.

The yellow flash of a light forced them to part, but they couldn’t seem to place it.

A lighthouse maybe? Or someone turning on a light in the b&b? Maybe a dream? Theon weaselled his way out from under Robb and stood up, looking around nervously. Robb just followed, more slowly, and, as Theon sighed in relief, noticing they were indeed alone, Robb pulled him close by the shoulders and kissed him again, running his fingers through his hair, letting him lean on a close by pear tree his family had planted, and drinking up his moans as if they were the soft juice of the sweet fruits.

Theon felt the bark against his back. His voice raised several notes higher than he would have liked. Robb's hand grabbing his cock, fisting it, in a moonlight obscured by sea fog.

He stared at Robb's hair flickering softly, moving in the wind, while Robb's mouth sucked on Theon's collarbones, leaving marks of such a deep purple that Theon wondered if he had wanted to devour him.

His hair was so red and the night and the sea foam so blue.

“Let's go to the beach... - Theon panted – I know there are mostly cliffs here but... if there's a beach close...”

Sea foam on red chestnuts, their bodies melting in the sea and in the night, for once at least.

Robb let out a small laugh, “I thought you didn't fancy romance.”

“I said I'm not the type. - Theon's lips curled up, twitching – It's different.”

He felt his hard cock pressed against Robb's palm.

“I'll bring you to the beach, but after this.”, Robb promised, squeezing Theon's hard cock.

His voice thick and raw.

The fourth day started with Robb's cock deep inside Theon and continued with him struggling to stay awake at breakfast. His head had almost hit the table twice as it kept slipping from his wrist. Asha snorted and threw jam on his face, to their father’s approval. Maron said Theon should better swallow than have it on his face. Rodrik didn't say anything. Some seconds after Maron cursed out of nothing, turning, annoyed and confused, to Rodrik, but the latter insisted on not replying.

Robb’s face had some shade of red as he brought warm bread and extra cold milk to the table.

“I, umh. - he gave Theon the glass of milk – I noticed you only drink it when it's basically at the temperature of an iceberg, so.”

Theon's eyes shone. “Ah, thanks.”

Rodrik's glance ran to Robb and Theon shivered in horror, froze and felt his heart clench and jump.

Robb, instead, played it cool. Let out a small smile and put the warm bread in between himself and Rodrik.

“And this is just out of the oven.”

Rodrik took one of the small rolls and bit into it, as if burning his gum was some tactic of intimidation. Maron just threw two or three of those fireballs of dough into his mouth as if it were nothing. Theon looked down, ashamed, just to meet his glass.

His eyes met Robb's and he felt again that weird warmth inside him.

He felt all twisted up, like his stomach had roller-coastered to the moon.

That day, while they visited the nearby scenery, he made sure to send the pictures he took to Robb even though, thinking about it after, Theon felt a bit silly. For sure Robb had already known those places.

But he had always replied with such excitement that Theon realized it only hours after.

He kept smiling stupidly at his phone. And when the wind brushed and threw his hair around, he smiled at it, welcoming the balsamic scent of the darkest waves.

He bit his lips and waited for the night, with a feverish need, with a ticklish desire.

And the memory of Robb's scent called him and made him ignite, turning him to fire and delight. 

There is no crime when there's no shame and there's no shame when you're so happy you forget what the world told you you should feel like.

There was just the dark pleasure of the memory of their skins finding each other, like animals, warm next to each other, hoping that the thick, cold layer of winter would crack over their skin and break, like the heat of the other could melt December away.

And on the night of the fourth day, he welcomed Robb into his depth while sinking his nails into the bark of a tree and then into the soft earth. He welcomed him, moaning, as they both felt the grass tickle their breathless, shivering chests and legs. He welcomed him when the rain started to pour again and Robb smiled and shook his hair under the drops and then bowed down and kissed Theon so ardently that Thoen wondered if one could be set on fire just by sheer happiness.

And passion flowed through them and simmered in their boiling hearts.

It was just them.

And on the night of the fourth day, Robb panted “I like you”, coming, bobbing his hips tiredly, slowly, almost automatically, spending the last moments of his hardness in Theon's oversensitive, raw ass. 

And Theon caressed his cheek and smiled, moaning as Robb still rubbed against him so well and right there and nothing had ever felt so good in all of his life as that crack in the glass between two orgasms.

“Me too... - he let out, almost without understanding what he had said, letting everything wash away from him, for once, just for once – Fuck, me too.”

And when he moved to kiss him after, Theon forgot how he could have hated that vacation at all.

The fifth day, though.

He had cleaned himself in the sea the night prior, to avoid waking Rodrik up with a shower, but, when he woke up, he noticed that his hair was a mess and his skin was full of salt and sand. Rodrik, though, seemed to just shrug at him. 

“Better than mud, I guess.”, he said.

Theon stiffened, stupidly. Of course, Rodrik couldn't have known – had he known, he for sure would have hit him or threaten him or told dad. He hadn’t done any of that and didn't seem like he was going to blackmail him either... 

Rodrik was getting dressed and Theon noticed he had gotten even bigger in the last year: more muscly, more sculpted, more drawn, more bags under his eyes, more scent of alcohol coming from his mouth, more tiredness in his voice.

Was he tired too? Did he also feel the need to be someone else for their dad?

“I guess. - Theon swallowed – But I don't really roll in mud. I'm not a pig.”

Rodrik turned to Theon, opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, then opted otherwise, returning to dress.

“Rod-”  
“Yeah?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then no words came out. Somehow, his throat got sewn back.

Too many years had passed, too many scars, and life is not a movie and you don't fix it all with one good convo and a clack of fresh beers. And his brother looked like someone he was not sure he knew, but he loved him all the same – like he loved him when he was five and he wanted to play football together or when he was eight and wanted to listen to his band play in the garage – and hated him all the same – like the first time Rodrik had punched him and Theon felt his head ring like a bell or when he told uncle Euron to never give Theon candy, while he gave it to the others, saying... Theon frowned, realizing maybe only then that the sentence “I'll tell dad if you do.” didn't make that much sense, not as a threat. Not about candy. Their father never cared about what they ate.

He felt a strange sting in his heart and then looked up, finding Rodrik’s naked back, full of cane scars and a couple of belt ones. Theon realized that his father rarely beat him.

Rodrik did, at times Maron. But his father never did.

He always beat them though, at times in the living room, forcing him and Asha to watch. Asha learned that way to be a suck up and never contradict him. 

His hand then slowly moved to Rodrik's wings, to the shallow hill of the shoulder blade and then to the deep trench of the muscle under. Rodrik stiffened, confused by the contact.

It was his younger brother, it's not like there was anything wrong with it. It was just... that he couldn't remember the last time it had happened.

Theon's fingers felt cold. Like the rest of the family. Either it was a circulation problem or their icy soul rising to the surface.

“Yes?”, he asked, blinking.

And Theon raised his eyes and met his and wanted to try to say something. To say he’s  _sorry_ , to yell  _fuck off_ , to ask  _who are you_ .

“You look like an overgrown cauliflower.”, he mumbled, pinching the muscles on his back.

Rodrik snorted, “Your boyfriend could use more gym. He looks soft.”

Theon froze, he stared at Rodrik and feared. He wondered if something had jolted him open, if he was gonna faint, blood pulsed and drummed to his brain, deafening.

He stuttered, his lips heavy.

Rodrik sighed, almost hurt.

With which right? Why? What did he expect?

“I won't tell them. - Rodrik said, coldly, moving Theon's hand away, as if it burnt him – Idiot.”

Theon's eyes widened, his breath cracked in his wrecked lungs.

“...did you see us?”

Rodrik groaned, “Yeah, didn't linger on it, though, not my kind of porn.”

Theon felt like puking, the violating feeling crept through him with a wave of nausea and melted in a whirlpool of the too naked feeling of being overexposed.

Until it occurred to him. And he frowned.

“...you're not making fun of me.”

“Why would I? - Rodrik shrugged – It's not big news.”

Theon let out a bitter laugh, “It's not like you and Maron ever avoided making a joke on my expense.”

Rodrik snorted, then his face dropped slightly.

“You had mom.”

And he left the room and Theon wondered if the air had gotten as heavy as steel or had his bones gotten weaker.

Rodrik exited the b&b, avoiding the mother and the older of the girls, as they were serving breakfast and offering coffee, and moved to the garden, where the smallest children were playing and the damn redhead was currying a couple of horses.

Robb turned only when Rodrik was close enough to hit him with his chest. He stared at him, confused, as the guy fumed like a bull.

“Stay away from my brother.”

Robb frowned, then shook his head, “I'm... this is none of your business, actually.”

Jon moved closer, taking the reins, “Is everything okay?”, he asked, with that weird expression as if any drama occurring that wasn't about him left him feeling somewhat invisible.

Rodrik slammed his hand on Robb's chest, making him fall and gasp for air.

“You don't know my father. - he warned – Keep your faggot hands away from my brother. - he breathed in, bit his lips – He was doing well before you.”

“Doing well _what_? - Robb almost roared, rising from the ground, holding his chest – What the fuck is your problem?”

One of the younger siblings seemed to have started to cry, the other ran inside, probably to search for his mother. The idea made Rodrik feel worse.

“It's gonna just retort against him. - he shouted – You're not helping him by giving him the illusion of being free to choose.”

Robb then hesitated.

His eyes shone in a mix of bitterness and understanding.

Jon moved between them, “Can someone explain what's going on?”

Robb swallowed, it burnt down his throat; he had recognized himself too in that foreign, strange boy he had barely anything in common with.

“Look. - he paused, raising his hands in sign of peace – I get it: older brother, you want to protect him. - he smiled, shyly – But this is Theon's decision and, for what's worth, I also don't want to hurt him.”

“So what? Washing your hands clean of the consequences?”

“Eh? No, you mis-”

When the fist hit him, Robb hadn’t really seen it coming. He saw Rodrik moving, the mass sway.. that was it, and then the slam. The horse behind him cried and kicked, Jon cursed.

Then other voices: his mom, Sansa, a girl...

“You fucking jerk!”

Theon?

Robb was still holding his pulsing head when he saw Theon coming to them, grabbing his brother by his shirt’s sleeve and then slamming a mean patented left hook on Rodrik’s face that made his brother trip over himself.

Jon stared at the scene, blinked and asked, without even looking at Robb, “What did you do.”

“Apparently start a family feud.”

Theon panted, staring at Rodrik, half dazed, wondering if he had really just hit him. Their sister reached both of them, but avoided speaking, she just offered her older brother a hand to help him stand up.

And Theon was sure he should have said something, but he just suddenly felt the earth leave his feet and all safety go away.

But Rodrik didn't answer the punch, he just looked at Asha, shook his head and left them behind.

“I am taking he knows.”, Asha mumbled to Theon, without receiving an answer.

Theon sat down next to Robb, his hand caressing the swollen cheek.

“You look like a pumpkin...”, he murmured, worried, but trying to mask it with some upset pitch.

Robb just smiled, held his wrist and kissed him softly. The distant sound of the waves took away the sense of consequence for a bit, but not for too long, just long enough.

Robb's hand found its place in the sot lagoon where Theon's back arches and melts in his bottom, when Theon moved away, swallowing and gulping nervously. Robb saw his family staring, more surprised by the ruckus than shocked by the reason.

His father shrugged, trying to smile more evidently than usual. Cat moved to her son and stared at him, severe, “Robert Edmund Stark! - she scolded, her voice trembling, then a small smile – What did I teach you about not putting yourself in fistfights?”

Robb felt his heart deflate, his chest welcome rest.

She turned to Theon, “And you.”

Theon stiffened.

“That was a nice punch.”

Theon couldn't help but smile, genuinely for once. Robb smiled at him too and their hands brushed.

“Well. - Ned coughed, embarrassed by seeing those little effusions of affection, as he had been when Jon kissed his Ygritte for the first time in the living room – This is awkward, so I'm going to return inside and pretend I don't have to make a deep speech.”, and he didn't need to, because his voice was not one inch disappointed.

Asha, though, moved to him and held him by the arm, “Please, don't... say it to those two.”

Theon appeared to have just remembered that his father’s existence was not a nightmare. His lips quivered and his jaw dropped slightly, letting out a deep sigh.

Asha's grip on Ned grew hard and desperate, “Please.”

Ned nodded, severely. “I am not one to pry. If you consider it better this way, so be it. - then he looked at Theon and felt an ice shard in his heart seeing how terrified that kid looked at the perspective of his father knowing he was queer, and seeing Robb soothing him, caressing his back – Then, miss, let's go inside and keep them occupied for a bit.”

Cat looked at her husband with pride and tenderness, then turned to the boys.

“You two should talk. – she said, softly, in a whisper, moving further – When you finish talking, come back.”

Robb gave a gentle yet firm hit to one of the horses and with a whistle they all started to gallop across the fields back to the stables. Robb sat there in the garden, signing Theon to imitate him.

“So. Umh. - Robb laughed, nervously, with that baby face suddenly older as reality hit him – It kinda blew up.”

Theon leaned on him, breathing heavily; he ran to Robb's shirt, his nails clenching the arm, sinking in.

Robb laughed, “Not so cocky now, hm? - he kissed Theon's hair and breathed in its scent, ignoring the pain of the nails – Are you afraid?”

Theon found himself shaking his head for  _no_ . But he was not sure that was true.

He sighed, staring at the waves breaking against the cliffs and welcoming the sprayed fragments of salt water in the wind. It felt good. The air blowing against his face, the sound of the sea, the way time didn't exist, right there. A slow, tender thrill caught his heart and Theon moved closer to Robb, holding on tighter.

“You smell good.”, Robb told him.

Theon laughed, his hair shaken by the wind and August melting away.

The sun dripped from the clouds and shimmered on the sea, like shards of broken light.

Robb smiled, he hesitated to speak and then held him close, “So... you punched a man for me.”

Theon snorted.

“You're quite big for a maiden in distress. - he observed, eyes half-lidded, rubbing their noses together – I hope I haven’t done wrong.”

Robb raised Theon's chin.

“You said you don't fancy romance. - he said, trying to sound certain, while his thumbs caressed Theon's arms – Do you think there's an exception underway?”

Theon swayed his head, as if he were reflecting profoundly, and he huffed and puffed a couple of times, before laughing.

“I nev... I'm not a serious relationship person. - he breathed, grinning and with his eyes watery – And you live far away and what if I fuck up and end up needing you? And what if you feel lonely and I can't come? If we pretend it’s just sex, it all ends well, no after taste, no ruined, spoiled afterglows...”

“Pretend, though. - Robb's thumb caressed Theon's bottom lip – Pretend. So it was not.”

“This is stupid.”

“Perhaps.”

“And rushed.”

“God had apparently a timeline to meet.”

Theon wanted to object but he just groaned, sighed, whimpered, groaned again, “You're so hard to say goodbye to, and you're just making it harder.”

“That was my plan. - Robb admitted, tilting his head to the side, his hands groped Theon's hips, squeezed him tight – If it's so hard to say goodbye, it means we shouldn't.”

Theon chuckled, “A long-distance relationship is also hard.”

Robb smiled, enraptured, “It's hard because it's important.”

Theon laughed, not wanting to find it funny, but oh, he did, Robb was just... fun to be around and he felt so good and he made him so hungry and eager all the time, “You're contradicting yourself.”

“I'd say or do anything to make you say _yes_.”

Theon raised an eyebrow, naughty, “Anything, hm?” and moved in, mouth open, catching Robb in his own, tasting him again: the honey of his heart and the salt of the droplets in the breeze.

They kissed again and again, with August melting away, colder than it should be, warmer than it had ever been for either. Until they parted.

And then again, in September.

 

 


End file.
